


chacun s'enchante

by templemarker



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21968608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templemarker/pseuds/templemarker
Summary: "Are you off?" asked Regis, stretching his arms above his head to rest them, folded, on the back of his neck against his pillow, freshly stuffed with feathers and sweet-smelling straw.Geralt ran a hand through his hair, gathering it together to tie it back in a loose queue. "Just to the southern edge of Lac Calavy," he said, shrugging on a leathered vest and turning back to Regis as he tied its fasteners together. "A runner came from the palace with a note about a drowner sighting by someone from Ravello -- it's not especially likely, and I'd bet any Ithlinne in my deck that no Toussaintois this close to Beauclair could successfully identify a drowner if it was right in front of them and doing a little dance."
Relationships: Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 7
Kudos: 147
Collections: Best Geralt, Yuletide Madness 2019





	chacun s'enchante

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YunaBlaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YunaBlaze/gifts).



> Set some years after the conclusion of "Blood and Wine". 
> 
> I love Regis so very much. I hope you enjoy -- happy holidays!

Regis woke to a slight disturbance of air currents along the fine hairs of his left arm; it took only a moment to see Geralt pulling a discarded shirt from the floor. His well-worked skin gleamed in the light from the few lamps lit in the room: Geralt's scent had changed since last Regis was here, the starchy aroma of yarrow and plantain in a creamy unguent Geralt had been applying to his skin. 

"Are you off?" asked Regis, stretching his arms above his head to rest them, folded, on the back of his neck against his pillow, freshly stuffed with feathers and sweet-smelling straw. 

Geralt ran a hand through his hair, gathering it together to tie it back in a loose queue. "Just to the southern edge of Lac Calavy," he said, shrugging on a leathered vest and turning back to Regis as he tied its fasteners together. "A runner came from the palace with a note about a drowner sighting by someone from Ravello -- it's not especially likely, and I'd bet any Ithlinne in my deck that no Toussaintois this close to Beauclair could successfully identify a drowner if it was right in front of them and doing a little dance."

"Ah, but the Duchess asks, and you must answer," Regis says, a bit wryly; Geralt seemed to spent as much time out of his estate as in it, and the lady Anarietta was the main reason why. 

Regis has been spending at least six months of the year at Corvo Bianco for a few years, riding in from his own travels to generally find Geralt at home, but not always. He'd been surprised at first to find that Geralt had left standing orders with his seneschal that Regis was to be made welcome as if he were the witcher's own family. But it became obvious quickly that Geralt was starved for suitable company -- certainly not the many social occasions for he was ruthlessly courted as a particularly sought after guest -- and Regis had been happy to stay with him much longer than he had initially planned. 

They had taken up their more intimate acquaintance seamlessly, as if no time had passed. And in the following years, they had grown ever closer, until it was clear that the both of them looked for excuses to stay abed even as the spring rains came and began to open the paths both north and south once more. The road called to both of them, for different reasons, and rarely in the same direction. A handful of lovely, quiet months stretched out further and further until they both chose to stay at Corvo Bianco as long as they could; for the majority of the year, together. 

It was well into winter now, of course, the solstice having come and gone the prior week marked by a small celebration for the staff of both the house and the vineyard. While the snow hadn't yet dumped down over Toussaint, the rain had been steadily turning to something more solid, and Regis expected the weather to turn any day now. He fetched himself out of bed and walked over to the wardrobe, tugging a package out of a travel bag he'd tucked away when he first returned. 

"Here," he said to Geralt where he sat on the bed, drawing up the laces of his winter working boots. "Something I picked up earlier this year, thinking of you."

Geralt gave him a look, and pointedly did not provide an opinion on Regis' sentimentality. Pulling the brown linen wrapping apart, he drew out a handsome wool scarf, dyed a deep blood red, the colour of sangreal in a crystal goblet. Geralt ran it through his fingers, turning his gaze back to Regis. 

"I found it in Northern Redania," Regis said, coming to sit next to Geralt, bodies close despite the wide width of the master bed. "A lovely woman had a small table before her front door, featuring all the garments she and her granddaughter knit by hand."

"It's very nice," Geralt said, then slowly followed on: "You know I don't really get cold, out there. I've gone through all kinds of terrible weather, and it's not even bad right now."

Regis smiled. "Just because you _can_ get by without something doesn't mean you should, or that you must always go without," he said gently, taking the scarf from Geralt's hands and winding it around his neck. As Regis had thought, the dye was magnificent against Geralt's colouring, setting off the bright yellow of his pupils and the healthy sheen of his hair. Geralt let him work, tilting his chin up as needed to draw the scarf together. 

"It's very nice," Geralt said again. Regis rubbed a thumb along Geralt's cheekbone; the man could not take a gift or a compliment to save his own life, which made Regis all the more determined to provide him with both as subtly as he could get away with. 

"It should keep you quite warm and dry in that sleet," Regis said, running a hand along the weave of the scarf, "and it looks very fetching on you."

Regis could smell the blood tinging Geralt's cheeks; no blush to be seen, of course, and a very mild reaction at that, but a vampire could always tell. 

"Thanks," Geralt said, squeezing Regis' hand in his own, before standing to stride towards the door. "I should be back by dinner, unless there actually are drowners, in which case--"

"You'll send a note," Regis said firmly; for himself he wouldn't worry, but Mssr. Foulty did get anxious when he couldn't verify Geralt's whereabouts or well-being. 

Geralt paused, then smiled, a small uptick of his lips. "I'll send a note," he confirmed, and left. 

Regis sat a moment more, then decided he would immediately go back to bed. He hadn't slept so well anywhere else, in all his long life. All the better to wait there for Geralt's return.


End file.
